Pain and Darkness
by MaryandMerlin
Summary: A Fenrir Greyback origin story - Cujo themes. Warning for allusions to violence, nothing graphic.


**QLFC** \- Cujo (inspiration only) - Fenrir Greyback as cujo - (object) Broken Mirror; (object) compass; (emotion) shame

 **HA - Geography** \- Task 4 - Write a fic set in a forest

 **365 prompts** \- 85. (creature) werewolf

 **Insane House Challenge** \- 374. (word) Demure

 **Gris-Gris Bag** \- (colour) Grey

 **Pizzaria** \- (base) - whole wheat - dry

 **WC -** Disney - Oogie Boogie - Write about someone who is truly evil

 **WC -** Showtime - 11. (emotion) excited

 **WC -** Count Your Buttons - (character) Fenrir Greyback

 **WC -** Sophie's Shelf - Buffalo Bill - (word) precious

 **Word Count: 1222**

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Pain and Darkness

"Don't be out too late now, Fen. It's getting dark quickly now and I won't have you holding back dinner."

"Yes, Mama!"

It was with a giddy sense of adventure and excitement that he jumped through the cracked, front door of his small family home and bounded towards the shadowy trunks that bordered their small plot of land. The line of trees was a poor excuse for a forest, though it stretched for miles up into the mountains. It was more grey than green, hardly thriving with wildlife, the ground dry and cracked with thick with thorns and other harmful plants but for a boy of eight it was a wonderland.

Normally such a demure boy, he transformed. The forest was his domain, his kingdom, his jungle and his outback. He could be transported anywhere when he entered the trunks and become anyone. His limit was his own imagination. Fenrir fished in his pocket for his most precious treasure, a shabby wooden compass encircled in a band of brass - it was a relic from his grandfather's days as a fisherman, gifted to him on his deathbed. The needle spun and trembled for a moment before settling towards the N that signified north - into the forest. Home was always south, that's how he always got home.

With a wide grin, Fenrir pushed back the dark shaggy hair that grew wild on his head and headed for the trees. He became a dashing hero, foraging through the dark forest in search of a damsel in distress. When bored with being the hero, he transformed into the villain - snatching precious jewels from the forest floor and casting powerful spells to enslave all the creatures to do his bidding. Though he always returned at the end of the day; returned to the sweet little boy from the small village who wanted nothing more than to be free.

As Fenrir grew bored of his most recent game, he looked around and realised that the dusk had come quicker than he had expected and the once welcoming trees were now dark and foreboding. He spun around on the spot, looking for the way home or some indication of what direction his village lay but now the trees looked unfamiliar and the wind was suddenly bitingly cold. He felt small and alone and very scared so he fumbled with cold fingers for the familiar weight of his compass but it was too dark to make out the direction.

The wind pulled at the trees, making the branches rustle and roar and a thick cover of clouds gathered over head. Every twisted trunk and gnarled bush was thrown into sudden sharp relief as a bolt of lightning split the sky. With a screech of terror, Fenrir took off in a blind panic. The heavens opened, soaking him within seconds as he ran across the mulchy ground - now slick and treacherous. He wasn't sure how long he ran for, or what direction, but soon he tripped and sprawled on the ground. Looking up, a bolt of lightning flashed above him illuminating a dark hole in the slide of a cliff. Thinking only of being dry, the young boy pulled himself up and stumbled into the hollow.

For a moment all he could do was shiver, and then his senses were overwhelmed as the pain flooded him. The cuts and scrapes that covered his hands and knees throbbed suddenly and tears burned his eyes as he realised just how alone he was. No one knew where he was or how far he'd wandered. How would they ever find him?

He fumbled for the compass that would guide him home and realised with horror that it was missing. That it must have slipped from numb fingers during his mad dash.

He had but a moment to wallow in the new fear of being completely helpless and hopeless before a noise rumbled from the depths of the cave. Fenrir perked up like a frightened rabbit, frozen in place but humming with nervous energy. Fight or flight.

It came again, a deep sound. Feral and raw like a starving animal and something shifted from within the darkness, scattering the rocks of the cave floor. He expected a wolf or perhaps even a bear to emerge given the noise but as the predator stalked closer the lightning flashed. It illuminated the creature mid leap, an impression Fenrir would never forget, as the twisted form of a man-beast lunged for him. It's deformed face part man, part wolf but all teeth as it descended.

There was pain and darkness.

X

Many years later, Fenrir could not help but recall the moment that changed his life as he skulked through the darkness of another cave. He was older and wilder now. The thick hair long, tangled and matted with filth. The clothes tattered. The muscles honed and the eyes mad. Long gone was the sweet boy who had entered the cave, now only the monster remained.

He remembered the following morning, his true birth. Fenrir had come to covered in blood, open wounds throbbing in his shoulders. The childish scrapes forgotten. He had found his way home by true animal instinct, following the familiar scent back through the trees - past a battered compass that he left in the mud - and down towards his family's ramshackle cottage.

He remembered emerging from the tree line to his mother pacing the patch of land. Watched the relief and joy on her face morph into horror at his appearance and then terror as he stalked toward her. His fingers and teeth ached and he stretched his mouth, running wildly towards her. Over her. Through her. She had tasted like she had always smelt - comforting.

He had gone to his room next, the one he shared with his younger brother. He passed his father in the main room. The man was all muscle from a life of hard labour - tough to chew. Two sisters had been there comforting the crying little boy on the small bed. They had comforted him to the end, though the tears were too salty their begging had brought him some satisfaction - they did not tease him now.

He had looked to the cracked and mottled mirror on the small dresser. Broken after years of misuse and examined himself. It was like a representation of himself - broken and all the more terrifying because of it. He had been covered in a mixture of blood. Bruised and filthy and smiling. He had waited for the shame and horror to fill him, even at the sight of his siblings on the floor.

He was still waiting, and even as the memories filled his mind as vivid as the day it happened - he felt no shame only hunger for more.

The clatter of feet drew him from his thoughts as a small body hurtled through the mouth of the cave, illuminated by the grey daylight. The child pressed itself against the wall, panting and laughing in equal measure. When he listened he could hear another one, counting.

A grin pulled his lips back from sharpened teeth. A feral growl rumbled from his chest and he stalked forward. The child perked up like a frightened rabbit, frozen but humming with nervous energy. Fenrir lunged.

There was pain and darkness.

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 **Much Love, MaryandMerlin x**


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